


Kiss It Better

by Anonymous



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Cheating, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:48:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29828646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Juyeon is throwing everything out of the window for a couple of chaste kisses and a pair of glittering blue eyes.
Relationships: Lee Jaehyun | Hyunjae/Lee Juyeon, Lee Juyeon/Son Youngjae | Eric
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25
Collections: Anonymous





	Kiss It Better

**Author's Note:**

> ‣ other additional tags will be added

Nails bite down his back as he tightens the hold of his legs around the other's waist, pushing their hard cocks together again and again, sparks of friction running across his body, gold boiling in his veins. The cold touch of the countertop under his thighs is pleasant, keeping him safe under the pressure of pleasure.

Juyeon licks into the kiss, tongues soft against each other. It's sloppy, and messy, but slow and sensual at the same time, — it has him moaning and breathing hard into the other's mouth, fingers playing gently with the silk blond hair at the nape of the other's neck.

He could probably do this for hours. Unfortunately, _they_ don't have hours. They only got the night. 

“Let’s move this to the bedroom.”

It’s only after hours that he wakes up, disoriented and body aching from love. The sun rises from behind the horizon, letting the ebony of the night sky bleed into red, painting faded shadows across the wall and the bed. He sits up, sheets pooling in his lap as his surroundings start to shape and get sharper, and he notices the boy still deep in his sleep laying next to him, arms under the pillow, sheets fallen over his torso. Juyeon follows with his eyes the intricate lines of his flower tattoo, dark burgundy splattered over petals like watercolor, and reaches out to trace the crescent scars he left along the soft skin. Fingers slip along prominent veins, dancing across a sharp elbow, skidding over firm muscles before reaching the sudden cut of his shoulder where he left those still blooming flowers of blood. He presses down gently on the love bites, letting the skin dip at the touch. It stirs the boy from his sleep and Juyeon pulls his hand away like the thought of getting caught might burn him. The other doesn’t open his eyes, turning his head on the other side and falling back into his dreams. 

He gets out of bed, immediately biting down on his lower lip when pain surges across his back, sleepy haze getting thicker with annoyance when he feels something dripping down on the back of his thigh. Grinding his teeth together he reaches for his shirt that has fallen over the edge of the bed, the material cold against his still sleep-warmed skin. Juyeon takes one last look at the boy, at the even rise and fall of his body before leaving the room, collecting his clothes on the way. There’s cum still dripping down the back of his legs when he tugs his jeans on, but he cannot be bothered with it. He tucks his shoes on without searching for his socks and the first thing he does when he takes his coat is to let his hands sink deep in the pockets until he finds _it._

Knuckles brush over the cool surface of the small gold jewelry, and without looking he slips it on his fourth finger. 

The gesture doesn’t burn anymore. _He doesn’t feel bad about this anymore._

He puts his mask on and with the familiar sound of a locked door in his ear he walks down the hallway, never turning back. 

The apartment is still empty when he gets back, no sign that would indicate Hyunjae’s return. Juyeon throws his coat on the floor, pulls his clothes off and leaves them in a pile right before the entrance. His naked steps take him towards the bathroom, completely ignoring the frigid touch of the marble under his feet. 

He takes an ice cold shower, letting his body forget the touch of the other that has been already engraved into his muscles, nails scratching over pale bruises and fading ghost kisses. 

The sight of the empty bed doesn’t hurt him anymore. _Hyunjae’s absence feels like a present wrapped in golden ribbons._ He lets his wet naked body sink into the soft sheets, falling asleep with the memory of playful giggles and lips bitten into crimson. 

⚬

Juyeon tosses the newly submitted color scheme on the table, scattering the papers all over the glass surface as he leans back on his chair, closing his eyes before he loses the last drop of his patience. Things just don’t seem to work his way today.

Early morning rush. Spilt coffee. Complaints and dozens of unanswered emails. A killer headache. The loud laughter coming from outside of his office. And he feels like he’s forgetting something of great importance too.

Stretching his arms high above his head, he winces at the pain that shoots through them as his bones pop with a pleasing sound. It’s almost lunchtime, the overwhelming summer heat filling his office reminds him of this. He stands up to open a window when there is a sharp knock, but whoever is on the other side doesn’t wait for him to let them walk in — they just simply step inside his office, shutting the door firmly behind themselves. The boy’s stance is unwavering and determined, grin hiding in the corner of his mouth as he looks at Juyeon with a familiar glittering in his eyes.

“Nice to see you again, _Juyeon_.”

Juyeon isn’t even fazed by the impolite greeting; he just looks at him properly, at his ice cold vanilla hair, at his long legs, at his thin waist, at how his shirt is way too unbuttoned to be appropriate. His gaze travels back to his face, blue eyes playful and challenging, eyebrow raised in question, lips plump in dark pink. Then the boy darts out his tongue to lick at them and there’s a glint of silver before it all crashes down upon Juyeon in heat waves. His mouth forms the other’s name before he even knows what he’s doing.

“You — ”

_“Youngjae, but you can call me whatever you want.”_

_If Juyeon would be sober he would scoff at the kid for coming onto him too strong, but he is drunk, haze coiling around his head like smoke, so he just laughs at him before leaning closer, hand enveloping half of his tiny waist as he whispers into his ear. “Do you want to know my name too, darling?” and he loves the bravery with which the kid leans even closer to him, bracing himself on Juyeon’s shoulder as he whispers back._

_“Well, what else am I supposed to chant like a prayer while we fuck?”_

Juyeon remembers how eagerly the kid wanted to please him. How his kisses became sloppy after a time and how he fumbled with his keys when they arrived back at his place — sharp laugh when he dropped them out of frustration. He recalls the heat blooming all over his body when the younger turned towards him with a salacious smile on his lips, words melting on his tongue.

_“I can’t wait to finally fuck you, been waiting to do this ever since I —”_

_“Then kiss me already, for god’ sake.”_

He remembers the small chuckle tumbling from between the boy’s lips before he pulled him tight against his body, kissing him so hard that it made Juyeon lose fragments of his already weak self-control.

Looking at this boy now, in the mellow light of early afternoon, vivid images and sounds flood his memories and Juyeon barely holds back the whine on the tip of his tongue when the fading pleasure from that night tightens in his stomach. The violet fingerprints still burn on his skin where the rough material of his coat brushes against them.

“You remember me, right? You screamed my name so prettily just a day ago,” he says, taking a step closer towards the desk.

Blood rushes to his face and he huffs a laugh as he turns to him, grin on his lips as he steps around his desk before letting his body lean back on it. “I don’t think you are here to ask for more.” He doesn’t know what he is doing or why he is doing it, but he spreads his legs slightly, looking at his intertwined fingers over his crotch before lifting his gaze, tilting his head to the side. Juyeon smiles at the sound of his breath hitching, at the way his composure sways gently. His dark eyes on him make shivers dance down his spine.

The boy walks towards him slowly with long steps, stopping when their shoes are millimeters away from each other.

"I wasn't until I saw you. And it also looks like your body is begging for more," he says, tongue licking over his lips as his hand brushes against Juyeon's knuckles before grabbing his cock over the fabric of his pants. Long legs close around the hand immediately, fingers curling around the boy's slender wrist to keep it there. "You're still so needy even after so many hours of fucking. I love it."

He leans closer, their chests pressing together as he whispers quietly into his ear, "Should we go for another round?" and he tightens the hold of his fingers around Juyeon's cock that twitches at the rough touch. The boy throws the file he's holding somewhere behind himself on the floor and runs his now empty hand up and down his side, slipping it under the blazer where the material is cut over his ribs. Soft fingers dance across skin and bones, thumb brushing over a sensitive nipple. “Gonna bend you over this desk and devour you.”

And before Juyeon can even register the words, he undoes the belt around his waist, letting the material reveal soft, unblemished skin. A warm hand finds its way over to his waist, sliding up and down his side, collecting heat under the touch. Lips attached to his neck, Juyeon cannot do anything but swallow every sound, fingers twisting into the black material of the other’s shirt. The boy nibbles along his neck, leaving small breathy kisses over his exposed shoulder before bringing his lips up and licking along his jaw, mouth dangerously close to his lips. Juyeon tugs at the fabric frustratedly, embarrassed at the low chuckle that escapes through the other’s lips before their lips finally meet. It’s not soft and definitely not gentle. He has both hands around his waist now, firm thigh between Juyeon’s leg, kissing him like a lover he hasn’t seen in ages.

He lets go of his shirt, threading his fingers through those artificial cold blond locks but before he can tear into them the other pulls away abruptly, body losing touch and thin fingers clasp around his wrist, tugging it away harshly.

There’s an incredulous expression on his face, looking from Juyeon’s face to his hand between them and back. Repeating it twice before stepping back to put enough space between them so that it makes worry coil in his stomach.

“I don’t remember seeing this last time,” he bites back, blue eyes on the gold ring that’s a pale glint when the light catches on it.

“What does it matter to you?” he says, displeasure distorting his features into anger that hides the anxiety rising through his senses.

“Gorgeous, I do know people see me as nothing more than a spoiled rich kid who likes to fuck around and I have no problem with that. Got used to it after years. But I am not doing this — even though I loved every minute we spent together, and I still keep thinking about you which is driving me mad, I am not going to be a homewrecker nor your dirty little secret.”

Juyeon chuckles, annoyance slipping through his lips before his face becomes rigid, features sharp in front of the pain eating at his heart. “Yet you had no problem coming on to me a second time even though you clearly knew that I am your superior. Should I take it off? Will that bother you less?” he spits the words, pulling the ring off his finger, putting it in the pocket of his blazer, never breaking eye contact with the younger. “You were so eager to bend me over this desk and fuck the living daylight out of me, what happened?”

He is perfectly aware of how ridiculous the question is. Who in their _right mind_ would start anything with a person who is already someone else’s?

But who in their right mind _wouldn’t_ if the other was begging for it?

Juyeon watches with sick pleasure how those thin fingers curl into a fist, veins prominent under thin sun-kissed skin. The bravery melts from his shoulders, brows furrowing with something akin distaste. “Stop looking like you are ready to bark. Get your attitude in check and give me those files,” he sighs while fastening the last two buttons of his blazer, slipping the ring back on his finger, the touch of it already cold around the digit.

When the boy doesn’t move, he rolls his eyes exasperatedly, leaning forward and past him to snatch them from the floor. “Sit down,” he orders, walking around the desk before letting himself fall on the chair, eyes skidding over the words printed in thin black letters.

He is not interested in the details, the fact that he is already standing in his office is enough for him to not question his abilities. “I said sit.”

Reluctantly the other sits down on the chair, expression still closed off and guarded. Juyeon lifts one eyebrow at him questioningly, letting the file slip from between his fingers, the folder falling over the already scattered papers with a soft thud. “Will you stop behaving like a petulant child for once? We won’t be able to work together if you are like this.”

Leaning back on his chair, he lets his head rest on his hand, crossing his legs so delicately it immediately catches the other's attention. 

“So Youngjae-sshi, will we be able to work together, or do I need to hire a new assistant?”

The boy — because he is no more than 22 years old, — shifts in his seat, intertwining his hands on his lap as he finally looks at him. His eyes shine just like they did that night in the bar, but Juyeon knows this time it isn’t lust that fills them. Confusion more probably. Anger?

“Yes, sir.”

The answer doesn’t make him satisfied, but he won’t make this harder for either of them.

“Great. Now take this color scheme back to the art director and tell her I don’t care about stereotypes, we are not going pastel pink for spring.” He collects the papers haphazardly, tossing them over to him. “And fetch me a clean shirt on your way back.”

Juyeon doesn’t dare to look up, not even realizing he was holding his breath back until the door closes with a soft thud and air rushes into his lungs. He opens the folder again, gaze skipping over words. The more he reads about the younger, the tighter the knot gets in his stomach.

Top of his class through high-school and college. Major in design and art. Minor in music production. Five piano recitals. Grand prize winner for several fashion competitions. A portofolio so thick that they decided to attach a flash drive instead. _He will look at it later._

This boy turns everything he touches into gold.

As he reads through the file, he unconsciously starts to play with his ring. It’s an old habit, something he developed at the beginning of their marriage, never quite sure if twisting his fate together with Hyunjae’s was the wisest of his decisions. It doesn’t weigh as much as it used to in the past, it isn’t a heavy burden anymore.

He fiddles aimlessly with the thin piece of jewelry, twisting the gold band around his fingers, pushing it up and down, brushing it against the knuckle before letting it fall back to its place. He feels the smooth texture under his fingertip, noting with interest that it’s still cold.

Juyeon leaves the files in his lap, taking the ring between two fingers, inspecting it closely like it’s the first time he sees it. The design is pretty simple, no words engraved, no expensive gemstones to shine — just a golden band of vividly blooming lies.

There is a knock on the door, but unlike last time, the person on the other side waits till he actually lets them inside. Juyeon puts the ring back on his finger, looking up just as Youngjae shuts the door behind him, crisp white dress shirt in his hand. He stands up, unbuttoning his blazer while listening to Youngjae's words gently filtering through his plump lips.

“The art director said that she never approved the scheme, in fact she has never seen it. She never revised any of them, probably one of her team members was the one who left it on your table. She sends her apologies with the promise of leaving the new scheme on your table by tomorrow so you can revise it first thing in the morning.”

His voice becomes louder as he gets closer to him, and because he is standing with his back to him, he can’t see him, but he can hear the approaching steps, holding his breath again. Juyeon hears the shuffle of clothes before he feels cold fingers sliding down along his spine. He barely bites down on the moan, back arching slightly, knot incredibly tight in his stomach. His fingers twist hard around the material of his blazer when cold hands settle on the delicate curve of his waist, fingertip pressing gently down while the younger lets his forehead rest between his shoulder blades.

Warm breath dances across his back, dry lips insanely close to a kiss and he can’t help the shiver that rolls over his body in waves.

“What are you doing?” his voice breaking on the last syllable.

“You can’t imagine how much I want this, how much I want you. How much I want _this with you_. But you are taken and no matter how insane that drives me, I don’t want to be the reason for your fallout. So I will bite my tongue before I could kiss you again, and break my fingers before I could touch you again.”

And just like that he pulls back, taking the heat of his body with him, leaving Juyeon open, naked and raw. Alone with his thoughts and feelings, body trembling with an overwhelmingly odd feeling of abandonment.

He’s left speechless, tongue dry in his mouth as tears swell in his eyes, fingers so weak he lets the pieces of cloth fall from his grip. His voice shakes when he speaks the words, but he feels like if he doesn’t say them, this boy will light him on fire and watch him burn.

“I will call for you if it’s needed, for now you are excused,” he hiccups, and it’s evident how pain tightens its hold on his throat when he chokes on the next ones. “ _Please_ , leave.” He doesn’t hear the fading steps over the loud and erratic beat of his heart, but when the door gets shut, he closes his eyes and lets the tears fall without trying to stop them.

Juyeon takes the shirt from his desk with trembling hands, clumsily buttoning it up while tears keep running down his face. His chest feels tight, heart dancing inside his rib cage like a maniac and he can barely catch his breath when his phone lights up with an almost adorable picture of Hyunjae, notifying him of an incoming call from his husband. Fresh tears fall from his eyes at the suffocating guilt that had never felt so heavy in the last three years.

“Hi baby.”

Hyunjae’s soft voice filters through the line and Juyeon doesn’t know how he does it but only with those words he manages to sooth the deep ache in his chest.

“My plane just landed. Are you maybe able to pick me up?”

Juyeon looks at the files piling on his desk and a dozen of unanswered emails, but there’s an itch under his skin to go, to run away from this office, _to hide from him_ and he cannot ignore it.

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

“I'll be waiting for you.”

_Don’t._

He ignores everything on his way out, including those curious blue eyes and the cruel feeling that bites into his side. “I will be gone for the rest of the day. Make sure that no one bothers me with anything.” And without waiting for an answer from anybody he leaves.

⚬

Only later in the afternoon when the bed sheets are cool against his damp skin, and with Hyunjae kissing his lips numb, Juyeon manages to forget the ghost touch of those cold hands that left him begging for more. 


End file.
